~Oddity~
by Noiseless Symphony
Summary: As a little kid Harry has always felt and been treated differently. Even now he still is. Please read...And then review it like there's no tomorrow!


_Oddity_

Dudley's called me a lot of things in my lifetime, but it was the first time I didn't understand what he'd said. 

I must have been about four years old. As I walked to the kitchen, Dudley jumped me from behind and tackled me to the ground. 

"You are such an _oddity_ Harry," he said, laughing as he pulled my hair. I bit my lip and tried not to cry. 

"Breakfast," Aunt Petunia called out cheerfully, and Dudley leaped off my back, bounding into the kitchen. I unsteadily got up and stumbled through the door, earning a reproving glare from my aunt. 

"Comb your hair," she said huffily, before turning to Dudley. "Diddums," she crooned, placing a plate of delicious pancakes in front of him, "you wolf down all of that, okay sweetie? I've got more in the pan if you want." 

Dudley began to tuck in greedily while Aunt Petunia dumped a plate of burnt toast in front of me. "Eat up," she ordered, "No more leaving food behind like last time. You think we like to spend our money so you can waste our food?" 

"Yeah," said Dudley between huge gulps, "Harry is _such _an _oddity!_" He snickered and started coughing, and Aunt Petunia had to slap him on the back to stop him from choking. 

"What's 'oddity'?" I asked once the drama was over. 

My aunt glared at me and Dudley laughed again, the choking episode already forgotten. "It means something that's strange, weird, peculiar," she said haughtily. 

"Like me," I said in a quiet voice. 

She smiled grimly and went back to piling more pancakes on Dudley's already nearly-empty plate. "That's very clever of you Dudley," she said, ruffling the larger boy's hair fondly. "What a big word you've learnt. Even _Harry_ didn't know what it meant." 

I wondered whether to take that as a compliment, that _Harry_ usually knew more that Dudley. But the way my aunt had said it, it was probably intended to be purely adulation for her only son. 

Dudley looked up and beamed angelically at his mother. "I heard Aunt Marge say it," he said in a pleased manner, spearing a piece of pancake with his fork. "I heard her say that Harry was an _oddity_." 

Then I realised that Dudley hadn't known before then what 'oddity' meant- he'd just repeated what Aunt Marge had said. 

"I'm not an oddity," I said loudly, tearing the crust off my toast. Aunt Petunia glowered at me. Then she smiled, albeit strangely, and folded her arms. 

"Who would _ you_ call an 'oddity' then Harry?" she asked, smirking disdainfully as if I wouldn't know an oddity from a brick wall. Dudley looked quite smug too. 

"Well..." I thought carefully. "The man at the corner of the Privet Drive and Flummox Avenue who dresses in newspapers and sleeps on the pavement. He's an oddity." 

"Hmm," said Aunt Petunia frowning, "Yes, I must remember to ring the council to get him removed." 

"That's not an oddity," interrupted Dudley, banging his fist on the table to get our attention. "I see people like that all the time on TV. They're _normal_. But Harry's a freak!" He turned to make faces at me. I stuck my tongue out briefly, hoping Aunt Petunia wouldn't notice. 

"Well then," I said, "that person you told me about in the circus who flies through the air to grab the bar. That's not normal," I pointed out, "Normal people can't fly." 

Aunt Petunia shook her head and said superciliously, "That wasn't _flying _you stupid boy! That was just jumping and exceptionally good timing. Diddums, you want more?" 

Dudley nodded eagerly and Aunt Petunia went to retrieve the pan. 

I looked at Dudley who was grinning victoriously. "Face it Harry," he said smugly, "There is no one more weird than _you!_ You're the only oddity in town!" He started singing: "Haaarry's an oddityyyy! Haaarry's an _oddity_!" as he thumped the table with his fork to the beat of the rhythm. 

Aunt Petunia dropped the rest of the pancakes onto Dudley's plate and doused it all in sweet honey-brown syrup. I looked forlornly at my dry toast which was getting cold, Dudley's taunts ringing in my ears. 

"Wait!" I said, remembering. Dudley stopped his singing and looked at me, surprised. "When we were walking past the shops last week, there was this man who was staring at me. He had a long purple dress covered in twinkling stars, and he had funny pointy shoes." I had somehow managed to capture Aunt Petunia's attention- she was gaping at me with widened eyes- and Dudley looked annoyed that I was in the spotlight now. Encouraged, I continued. "Then when you left me outside the toy store to mind the bags, he came up to me and shook my hand. His eyes were bright and they were purple. Honestly! And they shone! He said something, and I watched his eyes, and then I think they turned blue-" 

"LIAR!" Aunt Petunia screamed suddenly and dropped the pan with a clatter on the ground. I looked up at her, startled. Her face was a vivid shade of red and her hands were shaking. "DON'T YOU DARE MAKE UP ANY MORE OF THESE STORIES AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME?" 

I was so shocked. I'd only seen Uncle Vernon get this angry at me- I never thought my aunt was capable of this kind of rage. 

"ARE YOU LISTENING?!" 

"Yes," I said in a small voice, and even Dudley didn't laugh my frightened face; he too was staring in awe at his mother. 

"And if anyone _ever_ does so much as LOOK at you in the street, you avoid them or else you will be grounded for a year. _Do you understand_??" 

"Yes." 

"Yes what?" she barked. 

"Yes Aunt Petunia." 

"Now go to your cupboard." I slowly got up, half-eaten toast still on my plate, and left the table. As I headed out the kitchen, I heard a mocking voice behind me call out quietly, _'Oo-ddity...'._

I cried silently for hours after that. 

Even now sometimes I feel like an oddity; stranger among the strange, different from the different… 

The Boy Who Lived. 

The only one to survive the killing curse. 

The only Parselmouth since Lord Voldemort. 

The youngest seeker in a century. 

The last to see Cedric Diggory alive. 

Famous for a scar, for something I can't remember. 

*Some times I lie awake at night and imagine what it'd be like to_ not_ be me. 

To not be 

An Oddity

Wherever I go.*


End file.
